Harry Potter and the Dragon's Teeth
by genietakesnotes
Summary: Out on an assignment for an Auror Academy class, Harry and Ron accidentally draw a muggle girl into the wizarding world as the dregs of the Death Eaters go for broke. Mostly Epi compliant with George/OC.
1. Leicester Square

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was enjoying his summer from start to finish. He'd privately thought that after finally defeating Lord Voldemort once and for all it couldn't have improved – but he was wrong. The restoration of Hogwarts to its former glory had drawn grateful volunteers from all over the country and despite the hard work, the hours Harry and his friends had donated had been a lot of fun. Inspired by this, he'd also launched a fresh war against No 12 Grimmauld Place and with Kreacher helping instead of hindering, it was finally starting to look somewhat liveable. He'd received a secretive and badly spelled note from his cousin Dudley informing him that the residents of No 4 Privet drive were home safely. Apparently his Uncle was loudly telling the neighbours of the lengthy and expensive cruise they'd been on.

Finally, and perhaps best, he and his best friend Ron were newly enrolled in the Academy of Aurors at the Ministry of Magic. His other best friend, Hermione, was in Australia, tracking down her parents to remove the memory spells she had cast on them to prevent them falling foul of the Death Eaters. It was still weird to think of Ron and Hermione as a couple, but it was inescapable. They were as in love as he and Ginny were. Grinning slightly at the thought of her, Harry tried to marshal his attention away from his girlfriend and towards the Undeground map in front of him.

Today's assignment was proving gruelling, mentally and physically. They'd been assigned a random location to apparate to, in pairs, then travel by Underground to King's Cross station in time to see off the Hogwart's express. They were to do this without any magic (once they'd apparated) and they'd been told in no uncertain terms by Daphne Grievous – tutor of Concealment Among Muggles – that anyone using magic would not only fail her class but be arrested under the Statute of Secrecy Act. Thus Harry and Ron had strolled from a slightly smelly alley in China Town down to Leicester Square station, acquired oyster cards from the automated machine with only a couple of false starts, consulted the map, and discovered they were slightly lost. Despite the earliness of the hour, the end of season heat wave was in full force and Harry's glasses kept sliding down his nose.

"This is stupid," muttered Ron to his left. "I can't even see Leicester Square on here. Were these made to confuse tourists or something?"

"I had it a minute ago," said Harry. "I know it's near the middle. There it is, look, on the black line."

"The Northern line," said Ron, consulting the key at the side. "Well, That's a start. Now we just need to find out where everything else is…oy, love! Excuse me!"

This latter part was aimed at a young woman nearby, who was fishing around in her oversized handbag. She didn't even look around at Ron, who was offended.

"She's got headphones in," Harry explained. He hadn't said so aloud, but he fully agreed with Hermione. Ron was definitely going to benefit from a class teaching about muggles. Having grown up in a magical family, Ron was quite often clueless about things Harry took for granted about non-magical life. He walked over and tapped the girl on the arm.

"Yes?" she said, removing a headphone and giving Ron a weird look as he stared at it. It was emitting some rather tinny heavy metal.

"We're a bit lost," said Harry. Inspiration struck, "We're not from London. We need to get to King's Cross before eleven. Can you …?"

"Get on the Picadilly line Northbound. That's the Blue line. It's about four stops."

"I thought we were on the Northern line," said Ron.

"We're on both," said the girl. "Here, take this, uh..." She rummaged some more in her bag and produced a pocket map of the underground.

"Harry," said Harry, pocketing it. "Harry Potter. This is Ron Weasley. And thanks." Harry loved introducing himself to muggles. The complete lack of reaction made such a pleasant change from people gawking at his scar.

"No problem, Harry. I'm Lucie Scott." said the girl. "I hope you catch your train!" She smiled at them and beeped through the turnstyle before disappearing down an escalator.

"Is this one of those mobile phone things?" said Ron, bending over and picking one up. "She must have dropped it."

One quick dash later and they were just in time to see her board a train, deaf to their yells as she once more had her head phones in. Sprinting down the platform, Harry just managed to wave the phone at her as the doors slid shut. She shrugged and mouthed "I'll call you", but Harry wasn't looking at her any more. The man in the seat next to her was horribly, hauntingly familiar. He looked at Harry, looked at the girl and grinned disgustingly as the train pulled out of the station.

"What did she – are you all right?"

"On the train, Ron, next to her…"

"Who?"

"Fenrir Grayback!"


	2. Not The Emergency Operator

"The train currently approaching the platform is calling at all stations to High Barnet. Please use all available doors and carriage space. Please remain behind the yellow line. All stations to High Barnet."

Harry turned back towards the platform edge, all worries about not getting to platform 9 ¾ on time gone.

"We have to follow them!"

"Mate, I don't think we should," said Ron.

"You're not suggesting we just toddle off and get to our teacher like good little boys, Ron? You know what Grayback is –"

"Actually, yeah, I am," said Ron, cutting Harry off firmly. "We don't know where that train went and we don't know where she'll get off. Maybe Grayback won't even touch her _butifhedoes_ –" here Ron threw up his hands to stop Harry interrupting him. "If he does, we're too late anyway. What we need to do is tell the muggle police he's a rapist or something, and then go and tell Daphne and the other ministry blokes."

"Has Hermione infected you with some kind of sensible disease?" gasped Harry, both exasperated and placated.

"Has Ginny infected you with some kind of loony disease? Come on, we need the blue line, remember?"

Four stations to King's Cross St Pancras suddenly seemed impossibly long. They might as well try flying a Shooting Star to Mars.

At the next station, Lucie got up and changed carriages to get away from the creepy homeless guy sat next to her. He smelled like bad meat and kept breathing heavily in her direction. Just in case, she transferred the bottle of pepper spray from her bag into her pocket.

Stepping back outside into the still climbing heat, she noticed that the weird guy had too. Typical. He was creeping her out so much she was starting to think other guys, like that big blonde one, were following her too. Uncharacteristically removing her earphones and stowing them in her bag, she noticed her two new stalkers strike up a conversation with each other. Seriously wishing she hadn't dropped her phone, she tucked her bag firmly under her arm and started walking as fast as she could towards home. Nice, safe, lockable home.

Nearly there, she decided to take a little-known shortcut down a side alley and immediately regretted it. How, she did not know, but there was now one at each end of the alley. The blonde one, who was behind her and closer, called that he was a police officer, which she sincerely doubted. He said that the boys from the underground were criminals, which she also doubted. Ignoring what he was saying, she looked at the smelly one, then back over her shoulder. She had one hope. Hoping to catch them off guard, she suddenly dove for the dilapidated phone box half way down the alley. At a full sprint, she made it there half a second before the shaggy one, but it was half a second too slow. Struggling with all her might to shut the door, she wrenched the pepper spray from her pocket and sprayed desperately at his face. Rewarded with a yelp of pain, she slammed the door and tried to hold it shut while she scrabbled at the dial. Most of her concentration still bent on keeping her attackers at bay, she only dimly registered what the pleasant female voice was saying. Like she was taught to do at school when communicating with the emergency services, she gasped out her name and location and:

"Please, I need help, there are two men trying to attack me…" Her sentence ended in a shriek as the floor of the phone box started to lower. The woman's voice was still talking, but that was the furthest thing from her mind. Through the shock of what appeared to be a lift in a phone box, she realised that this was the only chance for escape she'd have.

When the floor stopped moving, she started running.

Despite Harry and Ron's best efforts at secrecy, the whisper was starting to circulate the platform. Fenrir Grayback was not in Azkaban. With the familiar hum of panic starting to make the usual chaos more pointed, Harry sought out Ginny and Luna. He'd hoped to wish them a pleasant trip while enjoying a justified smugness at reaching top marks in a class he had started with a black mark against his name. That mark had been put there years before by a house elf named Dobby, who had smashed his Aunt's elaborate cake in an attempt to keep him away from Hogwarts. Remembering that made him feel oddly nostalgic. As he reached Ginny and Luna,his reverie was cut off. The phone in his pocket had started to ring.


	3. They Fly!

By the time Lucie reached the lifts, she was beyond panic. If she'd stopped for a second to take the badge from the telephone that said "Lucy Scot – Seeking Law Enforcement Aid" she would have A, been livid that her name was spelled wrong _again_ and B, let the thought into her head that while she probably wasn't supposed to be here it was highly unlikely that anyone would refuse to help a young woman being attacked. However, the second she started running, the security guy had shouted followed her and Lucie had far too much experience in dealing with being chased through large buildings by security staff.

With the speed born of terror, she all but flew, ignoring her immediate surroundings with two things on her mind. One, find the back exit. Two, Dorian Gray looking chap following but not chasing her. She pictured the two guys from the alley in his company and found an extra burst of speed, throwing herself between the closing doors of a lift.

Aside from her, there was no one else in there. After a moment catching her breath, she opened her eyes and slowly turned them upwards. Several paper aeroplanes were happily floating, _flying_ unattended. She closed her eyes again. The same pleasant voice form the phone booth announced the floor. Lucie disregarded the department names as obviously being part of the same hallucination that made her see the paper aeroplanes. The doors pinged open and some of the planes zoomed away. Lucie followed, staring at them. The second lift pinged and Lucie's feet found their wings again.

Extremely rattled now and becoming increasingly short of breath, she barrelled down the corridor, convinced she heard following footsteps. Convinced she was going mad. There were windows showing the sunny weather from outside, but they were underground she was sure. The offices she passed trickled strange words and odd sounds into the corridor like a Lewis Carroll story. With no destination and no end game in mind, she was beginning to feel light headed – and then she saw it. Skidding to a halt she turned back. The plaque on the door said "A. Weasley". That boy who had her phone, his friend's name was Weasley. She hammered on the door.

Currently, Arthur Weasley wanted to curse Elephant and Castle off the map. Every time he got a report of something messy and potentially dangerous, it always seemed to be there. He sighed; scribbling a memo to the wizard he was sending. That was a plus, at least. These days MoMA was treated like a real department and he had the staff to spare.

A sudden loud banging on the door made him jump almost off his chair.

"Come in," he called irritably, then stood up in amazement as a young blonde woman in muggle clothing burst gasping and sobbing into the room and slammed the door behind her.

"Please help!" she choked, before he could say anything. "On the tube, there was a boy…named Ron… Ron Weasley, do you..?"

"He's my son," said Arthur, moving around his desk towards the shaking girl.

"Your son, and his friend, they have my phone and then these two guys, they tried to attack me and then and the phone box was a lift and I was in a hall and they chased me and this creepy guy was looking at me and the paper aeroplanes fly! THEY FLY!"

With that, she broke into uncontrollable crying. Gently but firmly pushing her into a chair, Arthur summoned a box of tissues from thin air and wondered how to set about getting the full story. He tried not to be too gleeful about having an actual muggle in his office, for it was clear that that's what the girl was.

A second, much more decorous knock at his door scared her back to her feet, suddenly silent. Without hesitation, she threw herself under his desk.

"Come in," he repeated.

"Morning, Weasley," said an unwelcome voice.

"Oh," he said with distaste. "Good morning, Alderton. Can I help you?" He uttered that last phrase in a tone that made it sound more like "go away".

"Bit of a do in the Atrium, Weasley. Seems we have an intruder."

"How exciting. And you came directly to keep me up to date with the gossip?"

"No, no, old thing. Word is she might be a muggle. Your area of expertise, what?"

"Muggle Artifacts. If you find her, do send. I'll be happy to make sure she has nothing dangerous on her person. Now, if you don't mind, I'm quite busy."

Alderton allowed his sneer to roam over the room.

"Of course you are. Good day to you."

When the door was safely shut, Arthur counted to twenty before walking back around his desk and looking down at the intruder in question. He didn't trust Alderton, who had mysteriously disappeared from work shortly before the uprising of the Death Eaters and reappeared soon after the Battle of Hogwarts. However much it was said that his work as an unmentionable had taken him to South America. Arthur made a decision. He took something out of a drawer and crouched down.

"I need you to listen to me carefully. Magic is real. Wizards exist. We hide our community from non-magical people. I'm going to send you to my son's – Ron's brother's – flat. You'll be safe there until you've had time to calm down a bit. I'll come and talk to you there. There is a chance I may have to put a spell on you to make you forget this ever happened. Do you understand?"

"Understand, yes," she managed. "Comprehend, no."

"Good. Now, put the number of the phone Ron has into this one."

He handed her a muggle phone he'd bought when Molly's back was turned. He'd been experimenting with it. He went to the fire place and made a quick floo call to George. Then he helped the girl up, gave her quick instructions on how to travel and watched her step, dreamlike, into green flames and say George's address. He punched the green call button.


	4. Top Marks

Aware that the people around him were starting to stare, Harry took the phone out of his pocket.

"Where did you get that?" demanded Ginny.

"A girl dropped it on the tube," said Harry. "What if it's one of her friends or something?"

"Tell them she lost it," she suggested, rolling her eyes. "Press the green button to answer it."

"How do you know that?"

"Muggle Studies," she said matter of factly.

"I'll answer if you like," interjected Luna, dreamily.

"Hello?" said Harry, hurriedly punching the button.

"Harry?" came a familiar voice at the other end.

"Mr. Weasley? How did you get this number?"

"Dad has a phone?" asked Ginny, interestedly. Harry frowned and waved her away so he could hear.

"The girl who dropped it gave it to me. She accidentally came through the visitor's entrance here. She said she was attacked after she saw you and Ron."

"It was Grayback," Harry told him, as quietly as possible.

"Grayback? Harry, are you absolutely…"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Merlin's beard, Harry, that is not good news. I sent her to George's place. He's expecting you. She needs her phone back, after all. Now, Ron said the other day you were out for Daphne Grievous' class today?"

"That's right, do you want to speak to her?" Harry craned his head, trying to spot his lecturer's severe dark bob and black framed glasses.

Ginny tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. Ron was with Daphne and he was waving for Harry's attention. Trying not to trip over any new first years – had he ever really been that tiny? – he jogged along the platform and extended the phone to Daphne.

"Arthur Weasley for you," he said, using a phrase he'd heard Aunt Petunia use when handing the phone to Uncle Vernon.

"Arthur?" she snapped in her usual brusque tones. "Your youngest son is informing me…a muggle? Has a memory charm been administered yet? Good, we'll be needing those memories as proof. Where is she? Why a member of the Order? Don't trust who? Fine. Yes, good point. Yes, I'm sure she is. You go. I'll tell Shacklebolt to follow you directly." She hit the red button and thrust the phone back at Harry. "Jolly good, you pair. You're here early. You even spoke with a muggle and she was none the wiser. Top marks. You're excused."

Knowing it was never wise to hang around the short tempered witch after being excused, the two friends went and said goodbye to Ginny and Luna, promising to fill them in properly by owl. They stopped briefly to apprise Mrs Weasley of the situation and to promise her that they were eating properly, bathing properly and going to bed at sensible times. Ron was hugely irritated but Harry secretly enjoyed Mrs Weasley's maternal clucking. It was nice to feel cared for.

With a final wave, they found a clear point and apparated straight into George's kitchen, severely startling Lucie.

"Don't bother knocking," Ron's brother greeted them with a frown, waving his wand at Lucie's spilled tea, causing it to flow back into the mug.

"Sorry," said Harry. "But your Dad's on his way and Kingsley won't be far behind him. We wanted to give you a heads up."

"Kingsley's coming here?" George's frown deepened. It was rare to see him smile these days.

Quickly, Harry filled them in about Grayback.

"A werewolf," said Lucie in an oddly flat voice. "Your big brother has them scars because he was attacked by a werewolf. That creepy hobo from the train is a werewolf. And people can appear from thin air. And I pepper sprayed a werewolf." She appeared to cheer up a little.

"You pepper sprayed Grayback?" demanded Ron. "That is the coolest thing I've heard all day."

"Yes, well, just because I am not of the magical persuasion doesn't mean I'm a total lump, thank you so much."

"Far from it," said George. "You've taught me more about store security in the last half an hour than Fred and I…" he stopped abruptly.

"Well, that's not to be proud of," she rushed, to cover the awkward silence. "My first boss only hired me so he could take my shoplifting out of my wages."

"Are you opening again?" asked Harry, eagerly.

"Maybe," said George shortly. Harry knew how painful the thought must be for him. To go back to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes without Fred.

"As a key investor," said Harry, trying a new tactic, "I'd like to be kept informed."

"Fine," said George, as the kitchen fire flared green. "Dad's on his way. Will you be okay?"

If Harry had blinked, he would have missed George's hand gently brush Lucie's shoulder and her hand tighten on the mug when it did. She nodded resolutely.

"Bring it," she said decisively.


	5. Just Like Jason

Harry was impressed by Lucie. Once over the initial shocks, she had readjusted her world view to include the wizarding community remarkably quickly. She had listened carefully to a brief history and a recap of the recent war. She had sat eye to eye with Kingsley Shacklebolt at George's kitchen table and answered every question, despite having previously confided that she had not always seen eye to eye with law enforcers in the past.

After them looking at each other carefully for a long, silent moment Kingsley had asked

"Did they say anything about dragon's teeth? Or using them?"

"Using dragon's teeth?" she said. "Like Jason and the Argonauts?"

At the blank looks on the faces of the five wizards she went on.

"In greek myth. There was a hero called Jason. They made a film of it. I haven't seen it in years, but someone planted dragon's teeth and they grew into an army of skeletons." She paused. "That can't actually happen, right?"

The silence stretched out.

"There are all kinds of restrictive laws about what one can and cannot do with dragon's teeth," said Kingsley, slowly. "Some of them have been in place since…well, since Ancient Greece. To be honest, I don't know if anyone's tried planting them. Researchers will be on this within the hour. Currently, there is nothing more than a rumour."

She stared into her mug.

"Are you going to wipe my memory?"

"No. Now you are known to certain criminal elements, for your protection we must keep you aware. I must impress upon you the importance of discretion…"

"I'm not going to tell anyone. Duh."

"Indeed. You cannot go home, it is likely they will have found out where you live - "

"She can stay here," said George, quietly.

"And finally, I am going to ask for your help. If you don't want to, when it is safe, we will modify your memory and send you home. If you do, we will re-evaluate the situation when your services are no longer required. We will be grateful. "

The ministry wanted to draw any escaped Death Eaters out of hiding and wanted to find out about and quash all of the rumoured dragon's teeth plans. Kingsley told them, all sworn to secrecy, of a plan.

"You can't just use her as bait!" Ron eventually burst out.

"Yes he can," she said. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" asked Arthur.

"I'm a twenty one year old shop girl with no education who just got fired. I've got no family and I've lost touch with all my friends. This is an amazing opportunity for me." She turned to George. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"The ministry will retrieve your belongings and bring them here. Please remain here, indoors, until further notice. I will be returning tomorrow to collect copies of your memories. Arthur, you'd better get back to work." With that, Kingsley strode into the fire, said "Ministry of Magic" and disappeared.

"Yes, I had. It's nice to meet you, Lucie," he said, shaking her hand. "George, boys, I'll see you later." He, too, stepped into the fire and disappeared in a whoosh of green.

"Will that hurt?" asked Lucy. "When they do things with my memories?"

"Nope," said George. "Look." He placed his wand to his temple and started drawing silvery wisps. "There's a penseive in the bowl cupboard."

Harry fetched it and placed it on the table. Lucie watched wide eyed as George deposited his memories and made a little version of Harry riding a broomstick rise from the basin. As they watched, the little Harry dodged spells and jinxes and turned into a George. Harry realised it must be from the night they called the Battle of the Seven Potters. Eventually, the little George on the broom was hit in the head with a spell and lost control of the broom, blood spurting from one ear. The memory suddenly dissolved.

"What was happening?" Lucie gasped. "Other than…" she gestured at George's ear. "That must have been terrifying!"

Harry watched her expressive eyes fix on George's face.

"We have to go too," he announced.

"What?" said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry, glaring at him. "I don't think we got all the Doxies in the parlour curtains and I don't want them breeding."

"But – ow!" Ron's objection had been cut short by Harry 'accidentally' kicking him in the ankle. "Alright, fine. I'm going."

"Bye," said Lucie, not taking her eyes off George.

"Yeah, bye," said George, not looking around either.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the look on Ron's face as the penny finally dropped. Waiting for Ron to vacate the fireplace, he made a mental itinerary for the evening. Check the parlour curtains, just in case there were any doxies. Write the letter he promised to send to Ginny. Write another letter to Charlie Weasley, in case he could shed any light on the uses of dragon's teeth and finally, he sighed at the thought, that essay on effective disguises wasn't going to write itself.


	6. Magically Challenged

Harry was in a grave yard. Around him, skeletons were laboriously climbing out of the ground, clacking their teeth together, making the air rattle. Wandless, he cast desperately around. Sat on one of the graves, Lucie chucked him a bottle of pepper spray and gestured upwards, where the dragon he'd stolen the golden egg from roared toothlessly at him. He turned back to Lucie, who grinned and shouted in Ron's voice…

"Harry! Wake up, you lazy git! She's coming back!"

"Huh?" managed Harry, waking half way up.

"I said get up! Hermione's coming home!"

Harry opened his eyes a tiny bit. He was in his room in Grimmauld Place, there was a bright lance of sunshine straight across his bed and a blurry Ron brandishing a piece of parchment.

"'s my glasses?" He muttered, seriously considering telling Ron to push off.

"Here!" Ron shoved them into his hands, along with the parchment.

_Reunion successful, tearful. Made for lounge, No 12. 7pm. Missed you, H._

Harry yawned and reached for his watch. It was seven in the morning.

"I'm going back to sleep," he told Ron, firmly.

"But you can't!" Ron exclaimed, snatching the note back and brandishing it around some more.

"I can if you shut up," said Harry.

"But the place is a tip!" said Ron, looking crestfallen and half-heartedly giving the parchment a last wave.

"I'd go and tidy up, then," said Harry, now trying not to laugh. In truth, the place wasn't that bad. It would take an hour to have it presentable, max.

"You're a git," said Ron as he stomped off.

Confident he'd be forgiven by the time he woke up, Harry settled back down into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

Having awoken at a far more reasonable time, Harry found the house in an unprecedented state of tidiness and Ron in a total state, pacing around and muttering. To stop him wearing the carpets through, Harry suggested they head to Diagon Alley for an early lunch and a perusal of the latest racing brooms. Ron agreed, intending to buy flowers and stop off at the Burrow on the way home to retrieve Crookshanks.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Harry asked as they strolled up the street, their shockingly grown up purchases. The heat was just as intense today and he craved a Fortescue sundae. He looked at what had been the parlour sadly. It was still empty, but now for sale.

"What?" said Ron. Although no longer muttering to himself, he was still distracted and uncharacteristically quiet

"Being here and not buying school stuff," Harry clarified. "It's kinda weird."

"Yeah," his friend agreed, seeming to take in his surroundings for the first time. "Hey, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Someone just went into Weasley's! Maybe George is getting ready to re-open!"

They hurried over and Harry tried the door, knocking as he pushed it open.

"Hello?" He called. "George? We saw the door and came to say…" he stopped, embarrassed. George was there, along with Kingsley, Mr Weasley and Lucie, all of whom were staring at him. "Hi." He finished, lamely.

"Don't just stand there, in or out!" exclaimed Mr Weasley, peering anxiously over their heads towards the street. They sidled in and shut the door behind them. Lucie, pretending not to giggle, gave them a wave.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, looking as embarrassed as Harry felt.

"Stage one," she informed them, chipperly. "Rumoured sightings. I'm being bait-like."

"Yes, well," said Kinglsey, frowning at the term. "Not just you. Perhaps, in fact, it's best that you boys have arrived…"

"Nosy gits," muttered George.

"…Since you will be able to facilitate rumours convincingly. We are just waiting for…ah. Here he comes now."

The door opened once again and someone in an expensive cloak with the hood hiding their face came in. They shut the door behind them, nodded to Kingsley and moved into the room. As the hood was lowered by pale hands, Harry couldn't help an intake of breath.

"You!" he exclaimed. The head turned sharply to stare at him.

"Yes, Potter, I still exist. And I should have known you'd be here to make this as unbearable as possible."

"But why…"

"Mind your own business!"

"Mr. Malfoy, please," said Kinglsey. Draco turned his back very deliberately on Harry, causing his gaze to alight on Lucie.

"You're the muggle?" he demanded, struggling and failing to make the word sound neutral. She gave him a long, slow look – all the way down and all the way back up.

"Racist." She said, tartly.

"I am not!" He exclaimed, flushing slightly.

"The politically correct term is 'magically challenged'," she informed him.

"Shut up!" Thundered Kingsley. There was silence. "If everyone has quite finished, we will proceed."

"Sorry, Mr Shacklebolt," said Lucie meekly, stepping forward and sitting in the only chair.

"Alright then," he said. "Arthur, if you would."

Mr Weasley stepped in front of Lucie.

"I need you to think clearly about the morning of September the first," he told her. "Starting from when Harry asked you for directions." He raised his wand and pointed it at her head.


	7. Shoplifters and Bank Robbers

"So then what happened?" asked Hermione, reclining into the sofa. "And what are the ministry doing about such a glaring lack of security?"

"Dad says he's never seen anything like it," said Ron, sitting down next to her. "Until further notice, you can only get in by apparition. Then you have to sign against a list of personnel in your department. All hearings have been suspended. Total chaos. And don't even get Percy started on the subject. It's like fourth year all over again." Hermione considered that, then gestured for the story to continue. Harry took it up.

"After the memory extraction, Malfoy went to be seen near Knockturn Alley before apparating and we took Lucie to change some money. When we chatted with anyone, we made sure to mention Malfoy and Lucie didn't hide that everything was new to her. Then she went back to George's and we went to the Burrow to get Crookshanks before coming home." Showing Lucie Diagon Alley had reminded Harry strongly of the first time he went with Hagrid. It had made him feel old and he missed Hedwig more than ever.

"And you think there's something between them?"

"I just don't want to be there when Mum finds out," said Ron.

"Because she's a muggle?" asked Harry, confused. Then he grinned. "Or should I say 'magically impaired'?"

"No," said Ron, also smirking at the memory of Malfoy's expression. "Make Mum sound like a Death Eater, why don't you. Nah, she loves you pair and one of you is muggle born and the other was raised by muggles…"

"Raised is such a strong word," interjected Harry.

"Either way, mate, I mean because Lucie used to be a thief."

"A shoplifter," said Harry. "It's not like she ever robbed a bank, so she's one up on us."

"Mum won't make the distinction," predicted Ron, darkly. "She's extra protective of George since Fred…died." The last word was quiet and reluctant, but both boys knew it mattered to Hermione that he didn't bottle things up.

"Well, maybe she won't be too harsh if she's making George happy," suggested Hermione, squeezing his hand.

"What about your lot, anyway?" Asked Ron, changing the subject abruptly.

"They're staying where they are for a minute. They want to think about what to do long term. They have a clinic out there and everything. They're happy. Happy to have me back, too. They want us to visit." She blushed slightly. "You know, as a couple. When I've sorted out my next steps, of course. I'm considering seeing if Professor McGonagall will let me go back and sit my NEWTs."

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, scandalised. "We spent a year on the run fighting Death Eaters to avoid taking any more exams and here you are volunteering to go back!"

Harry laughed, revelling in the knowledge that some things never change. And so they let the evening wear on, chatting idly about this and that and getting Hermione worked up into research mode over the mysterious dragon's teeth.

The next week proceeded calmly. Harry and Ron attended classes, hampered very little by the stringent new security procedures. Kinglsey summoned them and announced that since Operation Dragon's Teeth was being kept as unofficial as possible to avoid widespread panic, no qualified aurors were being assigned. Instead, Harry and Ron would be the on-call Ministry assistance for Lucie (and George by extension) and Malfoy. On related matters they would report directly to him and it would be counted as their assessed project. This was greatly pleasing. As Ron said, even providing Malfoy with assistance would be better than writing a dissertation.

Hermione had hit the books hard, even going so far as to send an owl to Ginny asking her to copy passages from books in the Howarts library. She, too, was gossiping like mad with any friends she met about George's new muggle girlfriend and how Draco Malfoy had been spied, despite disappearing for months after leaving Hogwarts.

George had sent Ron a howler as a practical joke – it boomed through the house calling him inventive names and insulting him outrageously. It set off Mrs Black – the only significant remnant of the house's darker days – and Ron had laughed and laughed before running off to send owls to the rest of his family about this promising turn in his brother's behaviour. As pleased as Harry was that George was feeling somewhat his old self, he was less amused about being left to deal with the shrieking portrait.

Finally, Harry had received a reply from Charlie, informing him (Harry) that there was nothing beyond rumour, suggesting a list of research sources, imploring him never to put the idea in Hagrid's head and saying that they could catch up soon, as he would be coming back for the mass memorial that was soon to be held at Hogwarts. Harry had given the list to Hermione and the news of Charlie's visit to Ron and some serious thought on how to get through the memorial without having to give a speech.


	8. Adflicto Affligo

On Saturday, a week after Hermione had returned, Harry was helping her make breakfast in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. Kreacher had returned to Hogwarts to help the house elves there prepare for the memorial feast. Ron was still in bed.

"I don't know, Harry, even in _Hogwarts: A History _I couldn't find anything. I really think we should ask Hagrid…"

"Definitely not," said Harry. He'd imagined several scenarios in which Hagrid had access to magical items that would grow monsters and he was still trying to repress some of them.

"Harry, other than Charlie, who else do we know who knows so much about dragons? I was only going to ask when they teethe, how many sets of teeth a dragon will have in its lifetime, that sort of thing. It's not like I'm going to go and say 'hallo, Hagrid, how're you? Australia was lovely. By the way, here are some dragon teeth which will grow an army of monsters, plant them in the pumpkin patch, do!'."

"I know," said Harry. "I just think…" But what Harry thought, Hermione would have to wait to find out because he was cut off by a high, full-lunged scream from the fireplace. They immediately raised their wands and Harry advanced cautiously. There was another scream, more masculine than the first. "RON!" Harry bellowed. The answering sound of feet pounding down the stairs was drowned out by a sudden whoosh as the fire roared green.

The next second, Harry was nearly knocked flat as Lucie was thrown into the kitchen. His glasses were knocked off and he dropped his wand. Her shoulder had hit him right in the chest and he gasped painfully for breath as he just barely kept them on their feet. She was hanging on to his shoulders and using his weight to anchor herself as she kicked hard at a blurry shape at Harry's feet. Her breathing was laboured and moments away from sobs.

"Oblivate!" He heard Hermione's blessed voice behind him and half a second later Ron's equally welcome voice bellowed "Stupefy!" Someone put his wand in his hand and Lucie stopped kicking, standing up properly but hanging on to Harry's arm for support, her free arm wrapped tightly around her stomach.

"Accio glasses!" he said, and unceremoniously shoved Lucie away from him as he realised with a blush she was wearing only George's t-shirt and a pair of knickers.

"Here," said Hermione, glaring at Harry with exasperation and amusement as she helped Lucie sit down. "Where are you hurt?"

"Ribs," gasped Lucie. "Where's George?" There was a loud crack behind her and George appeared, wearing pyjama bottoms but no shirt. He barely looked at Harry and Ron before rushing to Lucie's side where Hermione was carefully helping her lift the hem of the t shirt.

Ron whistled under his breath and Harry winced sympathetically. Swollen and mottled with livid bruising, nearly the whole of her right side from her hip to her armpit showed serious spell damage. Harry recognised it immediately as the results of a well-cast _adflicto affligo_, the magical equivalent of being pelted with bricks.

"Well, that's no problem," Hermione was saying calmly and brightly. "We can fix that in no time. Mending bones is quite easy, there's some pain potion in the bathroom and George has a marvellous paste for bruises. _Don't you, George?_"

The last question was suddenly hard and sharp and Harry realised that Hermione had a death grip on George's wand arm, forcing his aim to the floor instead of at the unconscious man. Harry stooped and rolled up the man's sleeve. Sure enough, just below his elbow was the all too familiar skull-and-snake brand.

"That's a good idea, Hermione," said Ron, slowly approaching George. "Why don't we go back to the flat, George, and grab your kit. You two should probably stay here now."

"No," said George, quietly, his eyes still fixed on the Deatheater. "I think I should stay here. You and Harry go." Hermione's knuckles had gone white and her fingernails were digging hard into his arm.

"We don't know where you keep everything," said Ron, casually but insistently. "And Lucie'd only be in better hands if Madame Pomfrey were here. It'll only take five minutes. And Harry'll get Kinglsey here." He glanced at Lucie.

"I'll be fine," she said in as normal voice as possible. "But I don't want no more people seeing me in my knickers. Go with your brother."

Finally, George looked back at her. She smiled at him, but her smile turned to a grimace as Hermione gently prodded a rib with the tip of her wand.

"Fine," he said. He apparated. Ron followed him. Hermione visibly relaxed. Harry had to admit, there were some classes in which Ron was miles ahead of him and they were mostly the ones that involved stamping your presence into crowds of people and dealing with upset or violent people. He sighed and looked back down at the Deatheater. He recognised him, he thought, but had no further idea than that.

"George showed me," Lucie gritted, as Hermione's wand probed again. "In the memory bowl. That's the man who took his ear."


	9. Complete No-Hoper

No more than twenty minutes later, Harry had written the day off as a complete no-hoper. It wasn't yet ten o'clock and there were nine people in his kitchen; one of whom was a stupefied Deatheater, one of whom seemed to have overdosed on a standard measure of pain potion, one of whom was in a murderous rage and one of whom was Draco Malfoy. With all of this to contend with, the fact that he, Ron and Hermione were still in their pyjamas had been put to one side.

Malfoy was watching Hermione painstakingly heal Lucie, rib by rib, as she lay barely dressed on the table mumbling and writhing indignantly. Mr Weasley and Kingsley were taking photographs of the Deatheater and discussing his injuries.

"Was he hit by a rebound?" Kingsley asked George. "The nose looks broken and those are some very nasty contusions."

"Kicked him inna _face_," slurred Lucie, trying to bat Hermione away and sit up. Kingsley walked to the end of the table and gently lifted her foot to examine the dried blood on her heel.

"Dangerous muggle artefacts, huh?" he said to Arthur with raised eyebrows.

"Nooo! Kick _you_ inna face!" Squealed Lucie, redoubling her struggles.

"Good God, Granger, how much did you give her?" drawled Malfoy, his face hovering somewhere between amusement and alarm.

"Just a standard dose," she replied, fretfully. "Maybe I should have started with a child's dose."

"Maybe," he sneered back, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr Clever!" she snapped, standing and whirling to face him. "I'm not exactly a qualified healer here and I'm doing the best I can to help unlike some people who have nothing more to contribute than stupid remarks!"

At the look on her face, Harry had started to edge between them and it was only because of this that a full scale duel was avoided when Malfoy allowed his grey eyes to take in Hermione's Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms and smirk "nice shorts, Granger!"

"No!" He yelled, restraining her. "Not in the kitchen! Malfoy, if you don't have anything useful to say, you can go and sit in the parlour. Hermione, calm down! You can't just abandon Lucie because he's being a tosser!"

With a glare and a flip of her hair, Hermione went back to the injured girl. Malfoy sighed.

"Where do you keep your potions ingredients, Potter?"

"What for?" Harry asked, suspiciously.

"I'm going to make a solution that will negate the side effects of the pain potion without interfering with the intended effect."

Harry indicated a cupboard and watched intently as Malfoy ground a few things together and dissolved the powder into a bowl of water. It smelled clean and fresh and he found himself relaxing slightly as he smelled it. Malfoy took a clean dishrag and soaked it in the mixture before wringing it out. He then took the rag and clamped it firmly over Lucie's mouth and nose. George leaped towards Malfoy, wand raised, but Lucie stopped struggling, relaxed and took several deep breaths through the damp cloth.

"Thanks," she murmured, as Malfoy removed the rag and used his wand to shine a light into her eyes.

"Brain damage?" she croaked.

"No sign of any beyond your sleeping with a Weasley," he replied, ignoring the withering glares from around the room.

"How do you feel?" asked Hermione.

"Like I took all the drugs," she sighed. "All of the drugs. My whole side is numb. It's really gonna hurt when this wears off, huh?"

"Probably," Hermione said, ruefully. "I've managed to knit the bones, but I'm just not at the level of fixing them all in one go. What's in that solution, Malfoy?"

"Dittany, sage, mint leaves and a scarab shell," he shrugged.

"Where did you find the recipe?" she demanded, the fire of research lighting in her eyes.

"I made it," he replied, looking warily at her. "It's good for headaches too."

"What about negating the effects of joke products?" asked George, sniffing the solution as Hermione fixed Draco with a calculating stare.

"Discuss business later, George, please!" implored Arthur. "I'm really more interested in why and how there was a Deatheater in my son's bedroom!"

"Yes," said Kinglsey. "Now Miss Scott is lucid, if our hosts would like to get dressed, I think I should take over the healing while we discuss the matters at hand."


	10. You Sleaze, That's My Bed!

The following morning was filled with questions. Have you seen my tie? When are we leaving? Do you think he was lying? Is anyone meeting us here first? _Will it work?_

Shortly before they were due to leave, Lucie ambushed Harry with the hardest one:

"How do I look?"

"Um, nice?" He tried, struggling in the age old male fear at being faced with that question.

"For a funeral," she clarified. "I don't want to be…you know…"

"Oh," he said, relieved. She was wearing a sombre, demure black dress that covered nearly all of her tattoos and a pair of flat shoes with buckles on the toes. "Yeah, you look fine. Appropriate."

"Thanks. Your tie's wonky, by the way."

Harry swore.

"Come here," she said, reaching out to adjust the offending accessory.

"Thanks," said Harry, standing still but lifting his chin so she could get to his collar. "It's been a long time since I've tied one."

"I thought wizards wore robes," she said, flattening his collar and shifting her gaze to his determinedly unruly hair. "And pointy hats."

"Usually we would," he told her, thinking guiltily of the dress robes hanging in his wardrobe. "Most of the others will be. I just…" He turned back to the mirror and took in the black suit and tie. "It never bothered me before, it's just clothes, but now they just make me think of the Deatheaters."

Robes and masks had dominated his nightmares for months.

"It's understandable," she said. "And you look good. Like a Blues Brother."

She chuckled and hummed the opening bars to She Caught the Katy. Suddenly, Harry was nearly eleven years old again. It was the night after he's received the first Hogwarts letter – the one addressed to the cupboard under the stairs. Vernon and Petunia had moved him into the smallest bedroom, which had previously been reserved for Dudley's junk. Her bad mood from dealing with Dudley's following tantrum had caused Petunia to waspishly deny her precious boy the opportunity to stay up late and watch a film on the telly. Shocked into picking cunning over brute force, Dudley had pretended to go to bed early and then snuck into the room where Harry lay gazing at the ceiling that seemed so high above the bed.

Harry had been brooding. Sulking, really. About the letter. About the Dursleys in general. About being Nearly Eleven, which is categorically not the same as being ten, but is depressingly far from actually being eleven. When Dudley had crept in Harry had considered making a noisy fuss and taking the beating for it the next day, especially when Dudley had insisted he take the blame if they were caught. But in the end, the desire to watch a film, to stay up past bed time, had won. He considered it a celebration of his escape from the cupboard. They sat side by side on the carpet and watched, enthralled by the swearing, enraptured by the car chases as only boys of nearly eleven can be. The music washed over them, the explosions shone in Harry's glasses and the thought had hit them simultaneously. Dudley was fat and Harry was thin. Uncle Vernon had black ties in his wardrobe and Dudley's old sunglasses were just right. The next morning, the marker pen Petunia used to label Tupperware had disappeared and Dudley swore blind he'd never seen it. The morning had been so full of the promise of misbehaviour, the boys so excited by the thought of being Jake and Elwood temporarily united and the garden so temptingly full of angry policemen and Illinois Nazis. But then the Hogwarts letter with the revised address had come and the game had died with Uncle Vernon's temper. He blinked, surprised to remember it so vividly.

"I don't sing," he told her, smiling. "Have George and Ron left?"

She nodded.

"Hermione left too, but she went straight to the school. She said something about…"

"The library? I'm sure she gets withdrawal symptoms."

"She's well clever, though. I wish I'd been more like that at school." She sighed. "Shall we get this over with, then?"


	11. Enough to Make You Cry

The Hogwarts grounds were bathed in glorious sunlight. The lake gleamed blue, the gentle ripples caused by the squid's tentacles throwing the glittering reflected light back towards the sky. The castle loomed as familiar as home, the windows golden. It was as beautiful as Harry had ever seen it, but Lucie was staring doubtfully. She was decidedly unimpressed as they approached the gates from the apparition point just outside of the station.

"What's wrong?" said Harry, trying not to feel offended by her less than enthused reaction.

"Harry, is this actually safe?" She had stopped and was looking at the gates, which were, as far as Harry could see, polished to a high shine and wide open.

"What do you mean?" He frowned at her. This was a young woman who, he had discovered, looked for and usually found the good in everything thrown at her. Even Malfoy, whom she had quickly worn down from formal civility to cordiality with nothing more than sheer force of will and a customer service smile. He was hard pressed to believe that she didn't appreciate how beautiful the grounds looked or that she was worried about meeting new people.

"Well," she said, frowning back at him. "There's the honking great sign that says DANGER: UNSAFE! For starters."

"Where?" said Harry, completely bewildered.

"There," she pointed. "On the even larger Addams Family gates which look like tetanus waiting to happen."

He stared at the gates, then back at her. It was clear from her expression that she thought he'd gone bonkers.

"In front of the godforsaken wastelands leading up to the half-ruined, structurally unsound, mouldy looking castle? I am using the word castle loosely, of course."

Something clicked in Harry's head. He was so glad Hermione had not witnessed this exchange. He never had gotten around to reading _Hogwarts: A History_ but if she'd told him once, she'd told him a hundred times.

"It's an enchantment," he told her. "To keep people out. I keep forgetting you're a muggle. There's a charm you can use that'll let you see through it, but I can't remember it…"

"And _you're_ the Chosen One who saved the world from wizard Hitler?" She smirked, raising her eyebrows at him. Torn between blushing and laughing, Harry settled for hitting her with a mild tickling hex, which was funny until she got him in the face with some of Weasley's Finest Wart Powder.

"OI! What do the pair of yeh think yer doin'?!" Thundered a voice from the gates, making them both jump out of their skins. Like naughty children caught by teacher, they turned meekly to face their confronter, Lucie trying to hide the wart powder packet in her hands and keep from squirming as her gaze travelled up and further up Hagrid.

"I expected better of yeh, Harry," he scowled from on high. "What kin' of example do yeh think yer setting?"

"Sorry, Hagrid," he said, slightly ashamed of himself.

"Take that curse off 'er at once, and get rid of those ruddy warts! Yeh look like a toad!"

Harry obeyed and Lucie stopped squirming.

"You did look a bit like a toad," she said.

"And _you_, Miss, will not be bringin' a single Weasley product onto these grounds. Hand 'em all over!"

"Sorry, sir," she emptied her handbag of an astonishing amount of Weasley merchandise, all of which disappeared into Hagrid's many pockets.

"Good. And no more of this!" he waved a threatening finger, but his beard was twitching. Harry's heart rose hopefully. He met Hagrid's eyes and the newly minted head of Griffindor burst into howls of laughter. "It's so good to see yeh!" he gasped, lunging forward and enveloping Harry in a bear hug, knocking his glasses askew.

"That wasn't funny, Hagrid!" Harry admonished him, although he was grinning as Hagrid warmly shook Lucie's entire forearm.

"Couldn' resist! Besides, I'm a head of house now and I need the practice! The two of yeh goin' on like Bill an' Charlie used to was too good a chance!"

"You deserve it!" said Harry, earnestly, reflecting on the choice of comparison. Hagrid grinned bashfully.

"Anyway, this mus' be young Lucie," his beady eyes took in the blonde hair and the funereal outfit. "Arthur told me about yeh. We'd all be happy if George found some of himself again. Charm's _Perspicsus_, by the way. I'll let you do it Harry, yeh know how I am with that stuff."

Harry watched Lucie's expression change as he administered the charm and was rewarded with a look of awe and a gasp as she pressed her hands to her mouth.

"I guess I know now why you keep this place secret from us," she whispered. "Imagine knowing this was here and thinking about it every day as you sit in the dingy tower block of some crappy Comp." She blinked rapidly. "Wouldn't it be enough to make you cry? I'm so, _so_ jealous."

Harry imagined sitting in the cupboard under the stairs at number four, waiting for a letter that would never come. It would indeed, he thought, be enough to make him cry. He put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. After another moment, she snapped out of her reverie.

"It's nice to meet you, Professor," she said to Hagrid, who beamed at the title. "Will you walk up with us?"

"Why not?" he replied. "Miss Lucie Scott, as a senior member of staff here at Hogwarts-" Harry saw him draw himself up as he said the word 'senior' "-I am giving yeh permission to enter the grounds fer the purpose of attendin' the Memorial Service. Please remember tha' this is a school and conduct yerself accordin'ly. Harry, yer always welcome here. Welcome back."

"Thanks Hagrid," he replied, softly, finding himself quite emotional.

"Bloody behave yerself, though."

"Yeah, Harry," muttered Lucie. He stuck his tongue out.

"Like a pair of firs' years," Hagrid shook his shaggy head, gesturing for Lucie to precede him through the gates.

Harry followed, with a growing feeling in his stomach that he had come home.


	12. Yes, Headmistress

Any optimism Harry had been harbouring about being able to sit peacefully though the service, pay his respects and leave without drama turned out to be unfounded. No sooner had he approached the recently installed Garden of Memories than it all kicked off. Hagrid had gone to prepare his cabin where, he told them, he would be fielding applications from former Griffindors looking to return to complete their NEWTS.

Apparently unconcerned by the stares she was attracting, Lucie looked around for other familiar faces as Harry fielded the first wave of the mob descending on him. Having espied the Weasleys grouped around a headstone at the far end of the Garden, they decided not to intrude upon the family grief until invited and Lucie headed towards Malfoy instead. He was stood singularly apart from the various knots of people including, Harry noticed, his former cronies from Slytherin. Harry followed her. Not from any desire to be in a conversation with Malfoy but because if he kept moving people had less time to comment on his suit. As they reached him, Harry heard familiar voices arguing in low tones.

"I just think he's got some nerve coming here after what he – " the distinctive Irish accent gave Seamus away immediately.

"It doesn't matter what he did Seamus, what matters –" Harry was less surprised than he once would have been to hear Neville outright interrupt someone.

"What matters is that he's a DeathEater –"

"There aren't any Death Eaters any more, Seamus. It's over. If you don't like him, don't talk to him – but for Merlin's sake don't start any fights! This is a funeral!"

"Seriously, Neville? He disrespects all our friends and the people who died just by being here! I can't believe you're standing up for him after all he bullied you!"

"He has friends who died here too! Relatives even! And you're right; he did. But that does NOT make it right for me, you or anyone else to become a bully! If the war taught us anything – "

"It's that people like him can't be trusted!"

"Knock it off, Seamus. Drop it."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll be Neville's second in the duel," said Harry, striding over. He was disappointed but not overly surprised to find that Seamus did not seem to be alone in his way of thinking.

"Harry! You can't seriously be saying that people like him –"

"I DID NOT DIE IN THAT WAR FOR YOU TO START A NEW ONE!" Bellowed Harry, his temper snapping and shocking himself as much as anyone. "Don't you see, Seamus? Any of you? This is how Voldemort started with the Death Eaters! 'People like that' is one step away from 'Mudblood' and it's more dangerous than the killing curse! The world is changing, right in front of our eyes and I won't see idiots drag it back down! See her?" he gestured at Lucie, who raised her eyebrows. "She's a muggle! See who she's friends with? Malfoy. Good! I hope she makes friends with Ernie and Luna and Zabini and I bloody hope she makes friends with you, Seamus, because she could teach you a bloody thing or two about acceptance!" He stopped, suddenly painfully aware that everyone within hearing distance was staring at him. There was a delicate cough behind him. He turned to find Professor McGonagall.

"While I agree whole-heartedly with the sentiment, Mr Potter, I would be grateful if you could keep your voice to a more decorous volume." She spoke sternly, but with no rancour.

"Sorry, Professor," said Harry calming down slightly. She nodded to him.

"And you, Mr Finnigan, would do well to take Mr Longbottom's advice and simply keep quiet if no civilised words present themselves for use."

"Yes, Professor," muttered Seamus.

"And you, Mr Malfoy," she continued, causing him to visibly shrink back as she turned on him. "Professor Slughorn is very much looking forward to discussing your reapplication to Hogwarts. Your appointment with him is at two this afternoon."

"I don't think I'm going to –" he started, before being firmly cut off.

"The correct answer is 'yes, Headmistress'! By the way, your Aunt is very much looking forward to seeing you." He stared at her, but she stared back as unblinking as a cat. He lowered his eyes.

"Yes, Headmistress," he said.

"Good," she said, satisfied. "Good day to you all."

As she strode off, the crowd dispersed, Neville staying to shake Harry's hand and meet Lucie before heading off to Hagrid's hut to discuss his reapplication. Harry wished him luck and turned to find Draco still stood exactly where he had been.

"What's wrong?" asked Lucie.

"Did she just threaten me?" he asked, sounding confused. "My Aunt's dead, I…"

"Wrong Aunt," said Harry, realising Draco's confusion. "Andromeda, not Bellatrix." At the look on Draco's face he continued awkwardly. "I knew your cousin Nymphadora, she married Lupin and I'm Godfather to their son…"

"I haven't seen Auntie Andi or Uncle Ted or Dora in years, not since Father…" he stopped hurriedly. "I can't believe Dora married our old Professor."

"Tonks and Lupin died. So did your Uncle. I'm really sorry." Harry couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation.

"Anyone else, Potter? Any more of my family dead that you seem to know better than I?"

"Dobby," said Harry and immediately wished he hadn't. The antagonism and residual confusion on Malfoy's face changed immediately to a hurt shock that a younger Harry simply would not have believed him capable of. After a moment, Malfoy got a grip on himself and his face shut down into a hard blankness. He turned deliberately away from Harry.

"Excuse me, Lucie," he said. "I think I need to go and speak with my Aunt."

"Want me to come with you for moral support?" she asked. Unbalanced that the offer seemed genuine, he declined and stalked off. "Sometimes, Harry," she continued, not unkindly. "You open your mouth and the absolute worst thing you could possibly say comes out."

"It's a gift," he said, morosely.

"If it's any consolation, he didn't like you to begin with, so you haven't, like, ruined a friendship or anything."

"I wonder why he's here," mused Harry aloud.

"He has reasons. I promised not to tell no one though," said Lucie. Harry stared at her. "We bonded over a round of the 'who has the worst dad' game. We tied."

Deciding not to go anywhere near that for the time being, Harry was reeling through excuses to leave in his mind when Hermione appeared, breathless, triumphant and worried.


	13. I Think I Know

The service over, the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Lucie sat in the sun on the edge of the lake. George and Lucie sat close to the water; hands tightly clasped as George silently conjured bits of cake and threw them onto the surface. Lucie had flat refused to believe there was a giant squid in there until she saw at least one tentacle. Mr and Mrs Weasley sat in the shade of a beech tree, perfectly placed to see all their children at once. Harry sat behind Ginny with his arms around her, smelling the floral scent of her hair and sharing the cocoon of silence she was wearing. Charlie and Percy stood, talking in low voices of Romanian law, of the weather, of Lucie's break in to the Ministry. Anything except Fred. Bill had conjured a chair for Fleur, but sat on the floor himself, his head resting lightly against her round, growing bump. Ron was trying to calm Hermione down. Her meeting with Hagrid had not gone as smoothly as she'd expected.

"…and THEN he said that he was worried I'd work myself to death, which is _ridiculous_ and…"

"Is it,'Mione? Ow!" Hermione had slapped him on the arm.

"I can't believe you're not taking my side in this, Ronald, how _could_ you –"

"Hermione. I am on your side. Hagrid's on your side, too. We just want you to take care of yourself…"

"Don't you dare, Ron, don't you DARE say I can't look after myself…"

"I'm not, you mental woman! No one's saying that! I'm just saying that in third year you literally meddled with time to attend more classes than was physically possible and the stress nearly gave you a break down! It's great that you want your NEWTS and we all want you to get the best grades, but we don't want you to drive yourself mad to get them!"

"_Apparently_ I'm already mental," she sniffed.

"You are. You're going out with me, aren't you?" This earned him a small, reluctant smile. "Anyway, he let you back in, didn't he."

"Yes, but I have to take at least one class that favours practical work over academia and I have to have at least one non-studying extra-curricular and I'm to limit my timetable of work outside of classes…"

"So take Herbology or Magical Creatures, re-start spew and spend some time writing to me so I don't think you're run off with Neville or something!" This time his efforts earned a tiny giggle.

"I suppose Elfish welfare _is_ still a huge issue. And Herbology would complement potions nicely…" another giggle. "And maybe I could run away with Neville…"

"Hermione, you'll break my heart!"

Harry sighed with relief. He, too, thought Hagrid was quite reasonable in all his concerns but the look on Hermione's face had scared all the Griffindor courage from him and he'd tactically decided to let Ron handle it.

Ginny shrugged him off and stood. He rose and hugged her.

"I have to go back to the school," she said.

"Will you do something for me?" Harry asked her. "Will you make friends with someone in Slytherin?"

"I'll try," she promised. He kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he replied, the thrill of hearing it turning his stomach upside down. They kissed again and she went to say goodbye to her parents. Harry went and sat next to Hermione. "What did you find in the library that got you so excited?"

"I think I know what the dragon's teeth are for," she said quietly. "And I think I know where they are."


End file.
